Marshmallows
by Digikitty
Summary: Netto teaches Enzan how to relax and make smores.


~Marshmellow~

Enzan sighed as he sat next to the small campfire. Netto was rumaging through some bags, looking for something, though he wouldn't tell Enzan just what that something was. The night held a distinct chill to it, signalling that autumn was soon on its way. Already some of the leaves had begun to change colors, and even with the fire Enzan had needed his jacket to stay warm. Netto was also wearing his jacket, though he had insisted that he wasn't cold and that he was only wearing it so that Enzan wouldn't feel stupid wearing his.

That thought made Enzan smile. He should have been back at his office, finishing up some paperwork. But earlier that afternoon Netto had shown up and dragged Enzan out the door, quite literally, and insisted that Enzan come camping with him. With the weather being so nice, Netto had wanted to have one last weekend outdoors before the weather turned nasty. Enzan had tried to refuse, but like everything else concerning Netto, the brunette was a force of nature all his own, and when he decided that something was going to happen, he didn't take no for an answer. Hence Enzan sitting by a campfire in the middle of the woods, with a tent pitched a few yards away.

"Netto, what are you looking for?" Enzan asked again, feeling a bit curious. Though he wouldn't admit it out loud, so far this little camping trip had been fun.

"Its a surprise!" Netto replied. "You'll see in a moment! Ah-ha! Found them!"

'Them' turned out to be a bag of marshmellows, some bars of chocolate and some grahm crackers. The marshmellows were larger than the ones Enzan was used to seeing, which was the kind that went into hot chocolate. Why would anyone want marshmellows to big to fit into a mug? And what were the chocolate and crackers for? Sure, Enzan knew that Netto had a sweet tooth, but did he really need so much junk at once?

"Why so many sweets?" Enzan asked, and Netto sat down beside him and opened the bag of marshmellows. "And why are the marshmellows so big? Its not like we have any hot chocolate to put them in, and besides, they wouldn't fit into a mug."

"What? Haven't you ever made a smore before?" Netto asked, spearing two marshmellows on a stick.

"What's a smore?" Enzan asked.

Netto almost dropped the stick he was holding at that question. He just stared at Enzan in disbelief.

"You don't know what a smore is? Have you been living under a rock or something?!"

"I'm the vice president of one of the most powerful companies on the planet, Netto. I didn't really get a chance to go camping as a child, so what do you think? Now are you going to tell me what a smore is or not?"

Netto grinned. "Nope, I'm going to show you, and teach you at the same time."

Enzan felt just a little nervous about that. Netto teaching anything tended to end in trouble. But it wasn't like he could refuse, either. Not to Netto. Not without suffering a blow to his pride. And the fact that Netto would never let him live it down, and Enzan didn't want to put up with all of the jokes he knew Netto would make if he didn't agree to the "lesson". So all he could do was nod in agreement.

"Alright, the first thing you want to do it put the marshmellow on the stick. Not to far it, but don't put it so close to the tip that it falls into the fire," Netto said, handing the stick he had prepared to Enzan. "Next thing you want to do is to hold it above the fire to roast it."

Enzan nodded, it sounded like a simple thing to do. But the got to close to the flames, and the next thing he knew, his marshmellow was on fire. He quickly pulled it out and blew on it to put the flames out, but now his marshmellow was completely black. Enzan glared as Netto began to laugh.

"Shut up!" Enzan growled, "It was my first try!"

"I know, but it's still funny! Pull the bad one off and try again."

That last came out as an order, and Enzan glared, but did as he was told. Only apparently he didn't put the marshmellow far enough on the stick, because less than thirty seconds later the marshmellow melted and fell off into the fire. Netto snorted in amusement, but at least he didn't laugh out right this time.

"Can't you just make it?" Enzan growled. "This is stupid!"

"Not a chance! You're gonna learn weather you like it or not!" Netto answered, his customary grin on his face.

"Fine, but this next one I cook you're going to eat, whether it turns out right or not," Enzan demanded. "Agreed?"

"Agreed. Now try again."

Enzan grabbed another marshmellow from the bag and speared it with the stick. Shooting another glare at Netto he placed the marshmellow over the fire to cook it. They say that the third time is a charm, and that seemed to be true this time around, because Enzan didn't catch the marshmellow on fire. He still managed to burn it, but it wasn't completely black when he pulled it out of the fire.

"There, was that so bad?" Netto asked with a grin.

No sooner was this said than did the marshmellow, melted from the heat, slid from the stick and landed on the ground. Enzan leaned down and picked it up, picking off the bits of dirt and grass that were stuck to it. Now it was his turn to grin at Netto.

"You still have to eat it! You promised!"

"It fell on the ground! No way!"

"You said you'd eat it whether it turned out or not, so keep your promise or else I'm leaving."

Now Netto was the one glaring. "You are such a jerk, Enzan, you know that?"

Enzan shrugged.

Muttering under his breath, Netto took out two grahm crackers and a piece of chocolate, putting the ruined marshmellow inbetween them, making a sandwich with it.

"This, minus the dirt, is a smore. And are you seriously gonna make me eat this? It fell on the ground."

"Yes."

"Enzan..."

"I'm waiting."

Giving Enzan the most evil, dirtiest look he could manage, Netto took a bite out of the smore. He couldn't really taste the dirt, but that didn't make Netto feel any better.

"There, was that so bad?" Enzan asked, using Netto's previous words to mock him.

"Shut up, or the next one I make goes into your hair." 


End file.
